


Bittersweet Dreams

by peartato



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt Roy Mustang, I put that in there for you Ruby, Impregnation, Light Dom/sub, My First AO3 Post, My First Smut, Open Ending, Or Is It?, Parental Riza Hawkeye, Roy cries a whole ton, Seriously please give this man a hug, Smut, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peartato/pseuds/peartato
Summary: Riza and Roy go visit Ed and Winry's first child. The visit's aftemath sees pent-up tension and longing finally come to a head.Lots of smut,  angst, and angsty smut.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	Bittersweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoyaiFan101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyaiFan101/gifts).



The phone on Roy Mustang’s desk rings, jolting him awake. With a groan, he reluctantly raises his head, the wood-grain pattern of his desk imprinted on the side of his cheek. He’d mostly shaken off the habits that had come with his lazy, unthreatening facade, but old habits die hard. Besides, a little rest is good for you.

The creases on his blue uniform sleeve ripple as he stretches forward, but another hand swats him away and snatches the phone from its hook. 

"General Mustang's office, this is Major Riza Hawkeye." She holds the phone between her cheek and shoulder, rearranging the books and papers Mustang managed to scatter in his slumber, then glaring as she silently gestures for him to wipe the drool from his chin. 

"Hawkeye! It's Havoc!" The crackle of the phone can't hide his agitation. Mustang recognizes the familiar voice and gives her a small smirk.

"What do you think he's gotten into this time?" he whispers. 

"It's... I just..." Havoc lets out an exaggerated sigh of despair, and there's a muted thump, presumably his face colliding with a table. Finally, they hear a hushed murmur. "The doctor thinks Rebecca's having twins." 

Mustang doubles over the desk and clamps his hand over his mouth to silence his laughter. Hawkeye gives him a stern look, but there's a twinkle of amusement in her eye. Some moments pass before he's able to contain himself. Finally, he looks up and motions for Hawkeye to hand him the receiver. "Looks like your house is going to live up to your name, Havoc!" he grins. 

"I'm serious!" Havoc cries, his voice jumping an octave, forcing Mustang to stifle his laughter again. "What am I going to do? Dealing with one pregnant woman is hard enough. How will I handle _two newborns_? I'm already up to a pack a day, and I can't even smoke in the—"

 _"JEAN!"_ comes a distant yell. 

At this point even Hawkeye's usually impassive expression is creased with amusement, her body shaking with silent chuckles as Mustang struggles to fight back tears. "I'm going to _kill_ you! You _told_ me you were going to help with the laundry! Your shirts _reek_ of cigarettes, and I'm about to _puke_ in the _hamper—_ "

Mustang cuts in. "Well, I guess I'll let you attend to your wifely duties, Havoc! Let her know I'll need an invite to your funeral." 

"You're absolutely no help, General—" 

"Have fun!" he teases in a cloyingly cheerful tone, and slams the phone into the receiver right before he collapses into fits of laughter.

When he finally manages to wipe away the last of his tears, Mustang looks up to see Hawkeye methodically arranging a stack of letters. 

"There are a couple pieces of correspondence that you need to reply to, sir." She spreads out the pile in order of urgency and priority. "Well-wishes from the ambassadors from Creta and Aerugo, a communique from General Artemis in the South, a telegram from the mayor of Dublith, and an invitation from the Elrics—" 

"Wait, really?" he interrupts. Interested, he grabs the gold-and-green envelope. The cursive penmanship was impeccable— Winry must have been the one to address it. " _To General Mustang_ ," he begins before flipping it over. Hawkeye winces as he rips apart the envelope, revealing a similarly-patterned card. " _Inviting you to the residence of Mr. and Ms. Elric-_ " he squints and raises an eyebrow, " _to celebrate the birth of our son_." 

He sits back, regarding the card with mild amusement, then closes his eyes and chuckles. "I can't believe it. The little bastard managed to create a human after all." He shakes his head, then looks up at Hawkeye and grins. "Is everyone popping out babies these days?" he asks, then glances back down at the letter. "Looks like we're headed for Resembool. Also, what are we nicknaming Fullmetal's baby? Half-metal? Quarter-metal? Babymetal? Unrefined ore?" 

The major rolls her eyes and gives him a long, exasperated sigh. "I'll make the arrangements, General." 

\-- 

The embellished invitations stood in contrast with the understated nature of the affair. The Elrics had set up a simple white canopy outside their home, allowing the handful of guests to take in the spring air as they reunited with friends they hadn't seen in years. As the wagon he and Hawkeye had hired approached Edward and Winry's home, a cozy cottage he'd built to replace the ruins of his childhood home. Mustang could make out Edward, Winry and her grandmother doting over a tiny, swaddled figure in Winry's arms, Falman laughing as Breda slapped Fuery's back, Alphonse standing next to May Chang, the Curtises chatting with Gracia as Elicia, now a lively seven-year-old, prances in circles in the grass. He smiled— she was growing up to be just like her father.

Mustang found himself slipping into the sordid memories of his first visit to Resembool as a young lieutenant-colonel. Hawkeye interrupted his slide into melancholy with a list of invitees, including Emperor Ling Yao and General Olivier Armstrong, who had respectfully declined. Mustang tries to hide his sigh of relief at the latter.

Winry's face lit up when she saw their cart pull into view. "It's Mustang and Hawkeye!" she exclaimed, waving from a chair under the tent. In her arms was a bundle of blankets that could only be her baby. She had bags under her eyes and there was a hoarseness to her voice that Mustang didn't recall, but her bright smile and chipper attitude remained exactly the same. Apparently even late nights with a newborn couldn't keep Winry down. "Miss Riza, it's so good to see you!" 

"It's wonderful to see you again too, Winry," Riza said, and Mustang heard the same softness in her voice she'd used when introducing herself to Winry back when the young mother had been a child herself. "How have you been?" 

Hawkeye swings down from the wagon as Mustang pays the driver, crossing over to Winry. Mustang finds himself standing awkwardly next to Edward, reluctant to invade what feels like a decidedly feminine social space. A few moments pass as the two exchange darting glances, each secretly hoping the other would speak first. Finally, Ed breaks the silence. 

"Fancy seeing you again, _Colonel_ ," Edward says, dragging out the last word with a mischievous grin. 

Mustang sighs, annoyed. "I'm a general now, Ed, if you haven't noticed." 

Ed shakes his head in mock disapproval. "Guess they're promoting anyone these days, huh?" he quips, smile grows wider.

Mustang rolls his eyes. "So what did you name the kid?" 

Ed scratches his chin and pretends to ponder the question. "Well, it was a real tough decision, trying to figure out a name that best fit a baby that wails that dramatically." He pauses and looks up at him slyly. 

"But we eventually decided to name him after you." 

Ed snickers as Mustang promptly spits out his coffee. 

"Aw, you're all wet. Does that mean you're-" 

"Dammit, Fullmetal!" Mustang sputters through gritted teeth. It takes him a moment to regain his composure. "What's his actual name?" 

"Jasper Theopold Elric." 

Mustang raises his eyebrows, incredulous. " _That_ was the name you came up with?"

"Hey!" Ed crosses his arms defensively. "Jasper's a Xerxian name. Means 'keeper of the treasure' or something—"

"You know that's not the name I'm talking about."

"Theopold? Some relative on Winry's side." 

"Which one?" 

"Not sure. Bunch of generations back, I think. He was a renowned artist or something, maybe a painter? She showed me some of his work, mainly just a bunch of pictures of naked ladies. Want a copy of one? We've got like, a dozen prints and Jasper's a little immature for that kind of art. Then again, maybe you're a little old to enjoy that stuff."

Mustang waves one hand dismissively. "I'm a long way from losing interest, Fullmetal, but no thanks. I've got enough of the real thing." He smirks. "Consider it a donation to the needy." 

Ed scowls. "I can't believe I'm going to live in a country run by a thirsty, unrepentant philanderer!" He eyes him skeptically. "What good would you do? Making miniskirts the official military uniform isn't meaningful reform, Mustang. To be honest, I should—" 

What Ed should do would forever remain a mystery. His voice trails off when he sees Winry carefully hand Jasper's little, swaddled form to Major Hawkeye. From a distance, Fuery, Falman and Breda instantly go quiet, curious to see how the famously stoic major would do with a newborn. 

"Hello there," she coos, lightly skimming a finger over his forehead. Jasper's minute eyelids flutter momentarily as he shifts within the blanket, a soft gurgle coming from his tiny, puckered lips. Hawkeye pulls him closer as Winry watches, hands clasped to her chest, expression adoring. The gaze with which Riza regards him has a longing like nothing Mustang has ever seen before. He feels a sudden pang of guilt, his throat beginning to close up, a strange feeling stirring in his chest. 

Ed turns toward him, no doubt planning to make some snarky remark, but the look on Mustang's face stops him. Sometimes, even the prideful brat knows when to shut his mouth. 

"She's wonderful with him," Ed murmurs, watching Jasper curl his tiny hand around Hawkeye's finger as she rocks him, humming softly. 

For a moment, the two men look on in silence. 

"She really is."

His voice is a barely audible whisper. It's such a vast departure from his usual grandiosity that Ed is left puzzled, until he realizes it is the heartbroken tone of a man confronted with a future he so desperately wants, but can never have.

Ed opens his mouth, presumably to attempt some awkward words of consolation, but Mustang is quickly whisked away by Falman and the others. He forces a smile onto his face as they begin questioning him intensely about the Ishval restoration's progress. 

\--- 

The rest of the gathering passes without incident, but Riza notes that the general is oddly quiet on their bumpy wagon ride back to the inn. The tiny country lodge had been fully booked for months due to a livestock auction the next town over, but the staff had rushed to arrange a reservation once they found out a famous general would be staying with them, much to her chagrin. Riza had barely managed to convince them that one large room would suffice for the two of them, provided there were two beds.

She glances over to where he sits next to her, still brooding. What was troubling him so much? She resolved to ask him when he seemed ready. She'd known him long enough to be sure he'd talk, but not until the time was right. 

The general is silent as he helps her out of the wagon, and as they climb the stairs. She barely has the key in the lock when he finally speaks. 

"Riza." 

Her eyes go wide at the sound of her first name. She spins around to find him gazing intently at her. Their eyes meet, and he places a hand on her shoulder. He awkwardly backs off at her flinch of surprise and instead cautiously takes both of her hands and holds them gently, his thumbs drawing circles on the backs of her palms. 

"Riza," he repeats, his tone growing softer, and this time she feels the yearning and sadness in the way he looks at her. 

"Is there anything you want?" 

"I assume you don't mean for dinner." She takes a deep breath, steadying herself. "The same as you, General." It's not what he means, and she knows it. "To redress the crimes we've committed, to rebuild this country, to serve the people of Amestris—" 

"I know that," he interrupts. "But what do you want for yourself? What do you dream about, when you imagine what your life could have been?" He doesn't need to say how he knows she has those dreams, any more than she needs to ask.

Riza pauses for a moment, then shyly looks away. She finds herself smiling, to her own surprise. "When I was younger, I wanted what I never had growing up: a happy, loving family. I wanted kids who would always know their parents loved them. Who wouldn't feel like they had to let their parents hurt them— let themselves be _used_ — to earn their love."

When she turns back to him, the look in Mustang's eyes is utterly unlike his usual bravado. His walls are down. He's vulnerable. He looks, somehow, both older and more tired than he has any right to, and more like the boy who had come to her father's house so long ago. Looking back at him, Riza decides to be brave. 

"Sometimes— a lot of times— I'd imagine doing that with my father's apprentice." She shakes her head, looking away again. Her bravery has limits. "But that was a long time ago." 

He knows that part already, or at least he had once. At thirteen, Riza had secretly written a note in neat cursive professing her love, years before she had learned what that really meant. There had also been detailed plans for their wedding, and a list of names to consider for their children, most of them derived from either exotic flowers or guns.

She hadn’t actually intended for Mustang, then seventeen, to see it, but he apparently had— when packing up her father's things after his death, she had been mortified to discover it neatly folded in one of his textbooks. Hopefully he'd found it cute. 

"You can still have that, you know." 

Riza looks back at him, bemused. Her voice starts to waver. "What... what do you mean?" 

"They'll probably only execute State Alchemists and high-ranking officers," he says, voice growing hoarse. "You should have your own life once mine is over. Find someone who can openly love you back."

And there it is. He's spoken aloud, if indirectly, the secret that they've pretended to keep from each other for so long: that sometime, after they met again on the battlefields of Ishval and before he held her as she bled through her throat, they had fallen in love.

"I want you to find someone else, someone who'll give you that family." 

The words are sincere, but his voice breaks, his eyes squeeze shut, and she knows that as much as he wants to be okay with this, as much as part of him may truly want that future for her, deep down he wants more. He wants to be the one who can love her, and let the world be damned. 

Riza bursts into tears. "I can't," she chokes out between sobs. Mustang pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her as her tears dampen the lapel of his jacket. Her arms gingerly feel their way around him, and he responds by hugging her tighter. 

"I could never do that." Her body shakes with each ragged exhale, and he rests his hand protectively on her head, her cropped golden hair gathering in the spaces between his fingers. “After everything we’ve been through together, do you think I want someone else? I’ll never trust anyone the way I trust you. No one will ever know me like you do." She looks up at him, her eyes red and puffy. "Do you really think I would want that future without you in it?" 

"Riza." His voice trembles as he struggles to hold back tears of his own. "It's just... I feel like I've taken so much from you. The secrets you trusted me with, your future. I led you into Ishval, Riza. Into a war. I've burned you, let that bastard slit your throat. I made you pull a gun on— on someone you love—" 

Riza looks up at him, and the conflict in his eyes is painful to see. She holds his gaze for a long moment, and then she leans up and kisses him.

His response is more forceful. With a groan, he pushes her against the wall, letting his weight press against her as his fingers wrap around her wrists. He pushes his tongue into her mouth frantically, like he needs her to breathe, leaving her gasping for air herself. His hands leave her wrists and travel up her shirt, fingers digging into her sides, lips becoming sloppier as he trails wet kisses down her jawline. 

"Riza," he breathes, teeth grazing the side of her ear. She shivers and arches her back with a moan, then suddenly pushes him away and looks up in panic. 

"General," she pants. "We're still outside." 

Mustang fumbles for the key, still sticking out of the lock, and opens the door with a look she’d almost describe as sheepish before pulling her inside. He slams the door behind them and presses her against it, tugging at her shirt as she fumbles with the buttons on his jacket.

Mustang hadn't meant to be this forceful with her. When he’d let himself picture it, he'd always imagined that their first time together would be passionate, but also gentle. He’d envisioned watching her melt under his fingers as she keened softly, savoring kissing her slowly at first. But the fissures in the walls they'd built had been widening in the years since the Promised Day. Every shy glance, brush of the hand, or small smile since then had slowly deepened the cracks. Even if they could have gone back after his own words, Riza's tearful declaration had dealt the final blow. 

He had known it was inevitable that at some point, after over half a lifetime spent tethered to each other, those walls would eventually crumble. But neither of them could have predicted the explosive force of that final breach.

She kisses him back fiercely, arms tightening over his shoulders. Mustang steadies one hand on the small of her back as the other cups and squeezes her ass. 

He feels her break the kiss for just a second, her wide eyes meeting his, the tip of his nose brushing hers. 

"I-" Mustang stammers, but feels his whole body pitch forward as Riza yanks him towards the bed. He falls onto the mattress as Riza, already ripping off her clothes, straddles him and unfastens his belt. 

He sits up and grabs her wrists, stopping her. "Not yet," he says with a smirk, and relishes in her yelp of surprise as he flips her onto her back, pulls down her panties, and leans forward to curl his fingers into her. 

"You're this ready for me?" he asks smugly, marveling at how soaked her panties are. Has it been as long for her as it has for him?

"Don't be so... ah!" She gives a sharp cry as his fingertips find the apex of her entrance. He leans closer to her face, listening to her little gasps increase with the tempo of his fingers. 

He watches, so close that his nose brushes against her cheek as Riza's eyes shut in ecstasy. 

"I've always wondered what it'd be like to watch you cum," he murmurs, savoring the way she writhes under his touch. His other hand grasps hers, their fingers intertwining as she tightly squeezes back.

It's been a while, but he can still tell when a woman is getting close. She whines in protest as he slows his pace and pulls out his fingers. 

"Do you want me to make you cum, Riza?" 

Her face scrunches up as she moans, body shaking as she nods. 

"Yes, General," she whimpers.

Mustang frowns. Of course his adjunct would be steadfastly attached to decorum, even at a time like this. 

He presses his lips to her ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"Then tell me my name." 

She averts her eyes, almost like she's embarrassed at this breach of protocol. Her mouth opens briefly. A moment passes, then he hears it, so quiet he has to strain toward her voice—

"R... Roy..." 

His fingers dive back into her with renewed force, his thumb pressed firmly to her clit. She claps a hand over her mouth to stifle a shout as she cums, her back arching, her hand gripping his with bruising force. 

Roy can finally watch her come undone before him. Her body is covered with a sheen of sweat, breasts quivering as her chest rises and falls sharply. Her hair is plastered to her neck and forehead, darkened with sweat. Her hand, still over her mouth, barely mutes her heaving gasps. She's a perfect mess, and absolutely beautiful. Roy nearly rips his trousers in his haste to discard them. 

"F-fuck, Riza," he mutters gruffly, pulling her hips toward him, positioning himself at her entrance. "I need to see you cum on my cock." 

"Then what are you waiting for?" she smirks, and he plunges inside her. 

Her soft noises of pleasure and the tightness of her around him only make him harder as he thrusts, and Riza wraps her arms around his neck, fingers digging into the divot between his shoulder blades. Her arms burn pleasantly on his shoulders, and he finds himself holding her more gently, trying to memorize the taste of her mouth and the feel of her tongue. He looks at her with all the weight of years loving her and thinking he’d never have her behind his gaze, and she meets his eyes with a gasp. Roy buries his face in her shoulder, kissing her Promised Day scar. It's a reminder that he loves her, but he’s hurt her, and it’s all tangled together. Suddenly he's softly babbling into the crook of her neck. He can’t stop telling her how precious she is, how he never wants to let her go, how he doesn't deserve her.

Riza’s legs twine around him, ankles hooking together. "Roy..." she murmurs.

Her fingernails dig into her back, and he takes it as an invitation to go deeper, his breathing growing more and more ragged. A finger to her clit is all it takes to push her over the edge again, moaning his name, his _first name_ , as her thighs quiver against him. 

"Riza—" he groans before he finally collapses, his cock twitching as he spills inside her. 

They hold each other, rocking gently. Then Roy exhales sharply, his body shaking as he starts to weep. The room is quiet, punctuated only by Roy's muffled sobs. Riza hugs him closer, reaching up to stroke his hair.

"Roy," she murmurs, her voice warm. "It's okay." 

Some time later, when he’s pulled himself together and she isn’t holding him quite as tightly, he pushes himself off her and gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead. He stands and bites his lip as he looks back to see her curled up, a white bead of cum forming at her entrance. 

"That'll be the first of many." 

“You seem awfully sure of that,” Riza says with a smirk.

"Hey, you said you wanted a kid, right?" He chuckles as he grabs a towel for each of them. "Come on, let's get cleaned up." 

\---

Later that night, Roy lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Riza is nestled next to him with a small, contented smile, arm slung over his chest. He glances over at Riza’s sleeping form, gazing at her as if she'll disappear if he looks away. It still doesn't fully seem real to him, that it was _her_ warmth he felt pressed to his skin, _her_ arm slung over his body, _her_ faint heartbeat against his side.

He had wanted this for so long it was almost painful, but now he was plagued with uncertainty. When it came to Riza, the separation between the rational thoughts in his head and the emotions stirring in his heart had always been fragile. And now the uneasy peace had broken into an all-out war.

 _What did you just do?_ hisses the voice in his head. _You damn well knew this was irresponsible. Impossible. And now you've gone and possibly knocked her up? What about the anti-fraternization laws? The goals you both need to accomplish? This can't happen, her dream can't happen and you know it—_

He flinches like he's been struck across the face. The inner voice was right, and the guilt that flooded over him only served to break him further. He'd let his emotions get the best of him, to the point of ignoring all sense of logic and reason because he had so desperately wanted to pretend and, more importantly, make her happy.

Now, the distance between them has evaporated, the lines had been crossed, and he knew that attempting to rebuild those emotional barriers was as futile as attempting human transmutation. Where would they go from here? Even if they were somehow able to have a family, what would happen to Riza and their hypothetical children once he was executed? 

That thought terrifies him, as much as he tries to file the worries away. Even the very concept of having a family at all scares him. Would he even measure up to the greatest father he'd ever known? Hughes had always made it look so damn easy.

"Riza?" 

She raises her head sleepily. "Mm?" she mumbles.

"...Do you think I'd be a good dad?" 

He feels soft puffs of air on his chest as she chuckles silently. "Of course, Roy," she whispers, snuggling closer, and the happiness in her voice only makes his throat close up further.

He tries to quiet the worries in his mind. They only had a few more hours left before the sun came up, before they had to go back to the charade they'd perfected. He wants to burn into his memory the feeling of her chest rising and falling against him, the way her head rests peacefully on his arm, the tranquil expression on her face that gives him hope that even while unconscious, she's trying to savor this moment too. They can face the future— the real future, the one that’s so much colder than the one he yearns for— tomorrow. 

Tears roll down his face as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, and he lets the quiet rhythm of her breathing lull him to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, it finally happened! The power of Royai managed to drag 4k words out of an illiterate peasant that has run screaming from every writing assignment for the past decade!
> 
> I'm still in disbelief this crackpot idea eventually came to fruition. I kept throwing out brainstorming ideas in the chat every evening for... someone else to use, because I only draw things and I definitely don't write. Ever. So when the dare came to actually produce something, I wasn't really sure what would happen or how this dare would turn out. 
> 
> I'd like to thank royaifan101 and BorkMork for the writing guidance, and dragonifyoudare for basically hard carrying me through the writing process via her dedicated beta-ing. And to rizalovebot for the initial push to do this and cheerleading throughout. You guys made putting this together a lot less scary! 
> 
> So here's the final product, which I actually managed to name something other than My First Smut. Let me know what you think in the comments.
> 
> Note: Theopold is a portmanteau of the names of two fantastic Royai smut artists I know (hence the naked picture jokes)


End file.
